Last week the Gunnison valley experienced a record-low cold snap for the area, prompting high precipitation and icy conditions. Rivers froze over, areas deeper in the mountains were dusted with several feet of snow, and the ski-season bug really hit the valley.
Just as soon as it had begun, the cold left and Crested Butte went back to days in the high 30s and 40s. The snowpack was deep enough to hold, but any ice that had formed over rivers at this point was quite untrustworthy. My little fox, however, was quite oblivious to this.
Casey and I felt like a nice romp in the woods down Kebler pass. We drove about an hour up the pass, and I secured a highly coveted camping spot I had my eye on since I arrived in the valley. We ventured out into the backcountry with the snow at our knees, a couple of brewskies, and Kiko bounding in between the snow trails that we created.
The snow was deep enough that she would launch from spot to spot, and upon landing be completely buried in the snow until she launched again. Watching her maneuver like this could be compared to penguins in the arctic, seamlessly moving below and above the waters’ surface and all you really see is the black and white of their coats.
Despite the immense energy output, I’m sure this requires of her, once in the backcountry Kiko is like the energizer bunny. She never tires. Mountains, desert, rivers; she laps it up like a kid on Halloween who wants more candy despite an already overflowing bag.
The hours went by like this, Casey and I trucking through the snow. The sweet silence of the woods and the mutual feeling of bliss that only nature can provide seeping into our souls. The occasional sun ray poking through the leafless aspens creating a blinding reflection on the white snow, and my little raccoon leaping around like a madwoman with ice in her whiskers.
Eventually, we came to a series of river crossings in a marshy area. The river was completely frozen in some areas, and in others currents of water would break through the ice and continue the journey downstream.
We hopped from bank to bank, making our way through the jungle of shrubs and snowpack. As we continued up the stream, Kiko caught sight of a den across a particularly wide part of the river. Fully iced over, she went racing across to the den and began tormenting whatever poor family of rodents that happened to be residing there at the time.
Several minutes passed; Casey and I continued busting through the bushes, and Kiko soon realized we were much further upstream than she was. This incited a full gallop down the ice towards us, and I will compliment her skill at running full speed on the ice. But what she failed to notice in her sprint for home was the ripple of water that had broken up the ice next to the spot where Casey and I were. Kiko came full throttle up that icy river and promptly dove right into the undoubtedly cold opening right beside us.
I would like to mention that this river was neither fast-flowing nor deep, and it was also about 40 degrees outside, so there was thankfully no real safety concern.
Casey and I both saw this moment unfolding, and as Kiko entered the water I gasped out her name and Casey threw his head back in laughter. Before any different reaction could take place, Kiko was up and out of the ice, sopping wet and bug-eyed, and immediately running back down the frozen river to check on her friends in the den, who were probably chuckling at her.
shit happens, but you just have to pull yourself out…
~Kiko
I shrugged it off, thinking maybe she will jot down some notes to be careful on the ice, and continued trekking through the marsh. My head buzzed with the familiar light that Kiko brings me whenever she does something silly. What a message my dog sends, I thought to myself; shit happens, but you just have to pull yourself out of the frozen river and go back to digging up a rodents’ den. Kiko really knows how to roll with the punches.
We found ourselves at a spot in the marsh where the bank dropped down about 3 feet onto the ice. Casey and I used a fallen tree to climb our way across, and I whistled for Kiko who was still causing trouble at the den. I heard the familiar jingle of her tags and looked back just in time to see her coming up to the bank. I motioned for her to use the tree that Casey and I had used to cross, because the ice was obviously broken up below the bank and could not possibly support any amount of weight.
Kiko either ignored my advice, forgot about her recent icy experience, felt like going for a swim… or maybe a combination of all of those things. Either way my highly intelligent companion proceeded to swan dive from the top of the bank directly into the broken ice below, and swiftly resub-merged herself into the frozen river. I slapped my hand to my forehead in a mixture of disbelief and entertainment as she climbed back onto the ice, shook herself off, and moved on.
Surely now, I thought as she ran past me to catch up with her knight in shining armor, Casey (who, I will add, buckled over in laughter again after the Olympic swan dive), surely now she is catching onto the dubious reliability of the ice. All vertebrates have problem solving abilities through associative learning.
Kiko loves the water and swimming, but the temperatures are freezing and she doesn’t like getting her ears wet. Surely she isn’t enjoying these little surprise dips into the deep and will learn to avoid the ice. Surely.
Dude…There is still learning to be had.
~Haileymack
“Dude.”
I look up to see Casey cackling away as Kiko is once again pulling herself up out of the ice ahead of us. There is still learning to be had.